The Last Word is Always Goodbye
by AnyAmy
Summary: A Protectors of the Plot Continuum spin-off. A try at a truce with FFN?? Wolves, Mary Sues, bad arithmetic, and the problem of killing your partner...
1. Forced to Love

**The Last Word is Always Goodbye**  
Chapter One: ** Forced to Love**

* * *

I believe I have found a compromise. I shall not post anything potentially offensive on FFN, and there will be no reason for anyone to kick me off this fine site. 

Which does not, of course, mean that I have learned the virtue of mercy. Only the virtue of exploiting legal loopholes. (Anyone who does not count this a virtue has never been employed as a lawyer or a government official.) 

The Lord of the Rings universe, and all that is _supposed_ to lie within, belongs to JRR Tolkien. I'm just clearing the mess a little. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia (or perhaps I should say they belong to it). Brent owns himself, but I own Amy. Some of the time, anyway, I'd like to think. The Mini-Balrogs, in all their terrifying absence, belong to Miss Cam, without whom there would be no Official FanFiction University of Middle Earth. The pain meds and junk food belong to their various brand names. Oh, yeah, and the Gameboy belongs to Nintendo. 

I think its safe to say that if I was going to make money off this, I'd be in court fairly quickly.... But I'm not. Who would buy it? 

* * *

The door before her was numbered '10,' but the door to the left of it was "1008" and the door across was '1011," so she was sure she was at the right one. Fairly sure, anyway. At places in the building, Headquarters acted like it was designed by a drunk adolescent architect who had accidentally fed the blueprints to the papershreader. To get to this door, she had been through a hallway converted into a bathroom (and then back again), an elevator that was otherwise a functional shoe polisher, and an empty, dull coloured room which had led to a huge 'Do Not Enter: Mini-Balrog Training' sign on the other side of the exit. 

The engineer must have had about five minutes to tape the plans back together before handing them to the building crew, Amy mused. In any case, the door was either the right one or the wrong one. The worst that could happen was she'd have to find her way back through HQ. Unless she had stumbled onto the _real_ Mini-Balrogs. 

Amy knocked on the door. At least, if she interrupted their training, she'd just be dead, and wouldn't have to worry about the cafeteria's meal lottery any more. ("Everyone with a pink ticket: Chocolate pudding! Anyone else: Last week's asparagus. Better luck at dinner.") 

She waited a minute. Nothing happened. She decided this was a good sign, and knocked again, audibly, this time. 

The door was opened by a young man, probably in his early twenties. He was good looking, in a rugged sort of way, but he ruined the effect by staring down at Amy as though she was some bug he caught trespassing. 

She did her best to smile at him. "Hello," she managed. "You must be Brent." 

He looked affronted by this amount of personal information she had acquired about him. His eyes narrowed. 

"I - I'm Amy. I don't know if they told you-" 

"Who's they?" 

"Uh, well, the flowers, of course. But you see, I'm-" 

"New partner?" he interrupted again. 

"Yes!" Amy sighed in relief. "I wasn't sure I was at the right door. Or planet, for that matter." 

He continued to study her for another moment as if uncertain whether to squash her or capture her for a science project, and then his face suddenly softened. "I'm Brent," he told her. "But you can call me Brent." 

Amy wasn't certain what to say to that, so she just smiled weakly and followed him inside the room behind the door. 

"I don't know what they taught you at the academy, so I'll go slow. We kill Mary Sues. I assume you know what a Mary Sue is? Good. When we have to perform this essential service, you'll hear a loud, really irritating noise that some little punk is too busy to tone down. I sounds like -" 

**[BEEEEEEEEEEP]**

"Well, like that, actually," he finished. 

Amy, slightly recovered from the hallway incident, glared. At least, she told herself it was a glare. To Brent it seemed more like a sulk. "I _know,_" she said. "I've been transferred from another genre. I've heard it all before. You can turn that off." 

Brent smirked at her. "Not really. You see, we have an essential service to perform. Or weren't you paying attention?" 

"What? Already? Now?" Amy, standing a metre before the door holding three huge duffel bags of random stuff, was not in the right mind frame to deal with a canon breach. Her mind was having enough difficulties dealing with Brent. 

Her partner was checking various weapons and putting them in a bag that was about a third as big as Amy's smallest one. Realizing he wasn't joking, Amy dumped the contents of one of her bags onto the floor and searched for anything that might be useful. Jeans... jeans... some makeup she hadn't used in months... a T-shirt.... 

"What do you need all the clothes for," Brent asked. "We have uniforms." 

"Maybe I like to wear something a little more casual during my off-time." 

He snorted. "What off-time?" 

Amy still hadn't found anything she wanted to bring, so she dropped the bag on top of the clothes and went to Brent empty handed. He rolled his eyes. "Here. At least take a gun." He handed one to her, and Amy barely had time to pocket it before the portal opened before her and someone pushed her through. 

The ground felt solid under her feet, but her feet didn't feel solid under her legs. Amy took a few short steps, and, when there seemed something strange about the movement, looked down. What she saw inspired her to produce a few gagging noises. 

"Brent!" she shouted between gasps. "Aghh!" 

A vile looking creature several metres in front of her turned around at her cry. She tried to run away from it but slipped, landing in a tangle with the disgusting grey things she was beginning to suspect were her legs. The creature was staring down with a look of amused disdain. She decided it was probably Brent. 

"What... what is... am...." Amy gave up on speaking. She flapped her arms a few times and made a high-pitched nasal noise in an attempt to sum up their current physical state. 

The maybe-Brent rolled its eyes. "Orcs," it said. "We're orcs. You know, goblins?" 

Amy took a few deep breaths and climbed to her feet. "Okay, orcs, fine. Why?" 

The thing snorted at her, which made her certain it was her partner. "Well, we can't exactly go tromping around Middle-earth as ourselves, can we? Not when we're sworn to **protect** canon, and all that." 

Amy was tempted to say, "Why not?" Instead she just grumbled, "Why can't we be Elves. I could deal with Elves." 

"What would Elves be doing out here?" Brent asked. He started walking away, and Amy ran a few steps to catch up. He grinned back at her, his face twisting into something even more grotesque. 

"I think it's an improvement," she snarled. 

"Testy today, are we?" 

They continued walking in silence for several minutes. Brent was taking his time, pausing every so often to gaze thoughtfully at the sun, or the trees, or a cloud that resembled a tennis shoe. 

"Where exactly is here," Amy said finally. 

"Just outside Moria," he replied, while considering a nearby rock. 

"And where are we going?" He made a sweeping motion with one arm, indicating, Amy supposed, north. Or possibly west. "And is there any particular reason we're going so slowly?" 

He glanced at her, the same vaguely interested look he had offered the rock. "You really have no idea what we're about to get into, do you?" 

"We're going to kill a Mary Sue," Amy said. "I'm not frightened, if that's what you're thinking." 

Brent shrugged. "You haven't looked at the words yet." 

They cleared a ridge, and Amy could see the eight remaining members of the fellowship, just out of Moria. They were strewn about, mourning for Gandalf. All in all, it looked decently canonical. 

Brent burst out laughing. At Amy's bewildered expression he gestured her attention towards the words that the world around them was comprised of. Amy started giggling. She couldn't help herself. 

* * *

If you want to find out what Brent and Amy are laughing at, the rest of this chapter can be found at **http://members.bellatlantic.net/~vze3b4pq/PPC_TOS/anyamy/goodbye1.html**. It cannot be found on FFN, for pseudo-legal reasons, which I will not rant about here. 


	2. Lost Beloved

**The Last Word is Always Goodbye**  
Chapter Two: **Lost Beloved**

* * *

As it turned out, Brent was not very impressed by Amy's plan for the wolves. By the end of her explanation, he was staring at her with something near to malice.

Amy glanced up to see his reaction, but quickly glanced down again. "Or, some colour you like," she finished.

"I just want to know one thing, before I start saying things. One thing. You **are** serious?" he said, staring at her forehead as though doubtful of anything behind it.

"Well, yes, of course," Amy replied, slightly defensive, but mostly nervous. "I, at least, wouldn't mind a bit of extra money. Perhaps **your** paycheck has a few more zeros on it than mine does, but-"

"After working here for a decent while, most people get rich. You never get out long enough to spend anything. But then most go crazy and everything they have is confiscated by Downstairs again. - Have you read your contract? Wish I was the lawyer that wrote that thing up. - Which is not the point. " He paused. "The point was what again?"

"Wolves." Amy shrugged. "Or something concerning them."

"Right." He glared at her again, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a loud:

****

[BEEEEEEEEEP!]

Amy jumped and squealed in surprise, but Brent just calmly walked towards the display. It looked like it had been salvaged off a computer from the eighties. His face didn't soften; he just aimed the glare towards the screen.

Encouraged by this shift in his anger, Amy crept closer to him until she was facing the screen as well, but she still couldn't quite make out the words. This probably had more to do with the beige glare of the screen than any need for glasses. Amy squinted. Until now, she had thought only books yellowed with age.

"Oh, look," Brent said. "Her daddy wants her to marry someone she doesn't love, so she runs away. Haven't heard that one before. You?"

"Very original," Amy deadpanned, tilting her head. She thought the glow might disappear if she looked at a different angle. 

Brent glanced at her, losing the scowl long enough to scoff. "You don't really want to read that. It hurts the eyes."

"A new screen might help," Amy said. She took a step forward. If anything, it made things worse.

"Nah, this one's good luck. We both started on the same day. It's aged slightly better, what would you say?"

Amy wondered just **how **long Brent had been working for the PPC. He took a step backwards until he was standing next to her, and gazed thoughtfully at the words. "You know what might make it readable? Nothing, really. But paragraphs wouldn't hurt." 

She gave up on the text. Her eyes were beginning to tear. Brent took something lying on one of the consoles and turned it on. "Hey! Yeah, it's Brent again," he said into it. "Look, we've got another screamer. Just kick the doors until they open - I'm hiding the key inside." There was a pause, and then Brent snorted into the phone. "If you can't **find **it, you've got less brain cells than the average Sue. It's big, it's bay, it's got four legs... You know, generally a horse." He threw the object back on the controls. Amy, blinking at the spots in her vision, saw it was a surprisingly normal looking phone.

Brent pushed at the console's buttons, and a portal appeared in front of them. "I don't want it to stay in here until we get back," he said, gesturing at the dead horse that was spread across the room. "It's hard to air these rooms out when something rots in them, you know."

Amy didn't, nor did she have any intention of finding out. She grabbed her pink and yellow duffel bag which, besides being the smallest one she owned, was the only one not currently underneath the horse. She had already dumped her clothes out of it, and as she had nothing else to put in it, it just hung limply at her side. She took a breath to prepare herself, and stepped through the portal.

Brent was just behind her. His human features were gone, replaced by those of an orc. Amy knew she was in an equally unattractive guise, but she could deal with it. It was easier when she had some warning. The world around her felt dense and somewhat suffocating, results of the lack of paragraphs. 

"Where are we?" she asked Brent.

"Mirkwood," he said. "Legolas left his One-True-Love behind so he could go save the world."

"Couldn't we follow **him**?"

"You wish. Me too, if anyone cares. But it's canon there until they get near Lothlórien." He swept an arm in a wide gesture. "This-a-way."

Amy followed several steps behind Brent. He wasn't dawdling this time, and Amy took this as a sign she didn't need to worry. As she stomped along, she dug in her pocket for the booklet that had been handed to her by a daisy in a pinstriped suit, who also happened to be the Director of Personnel. It had given out new assignments to the members of her now nonexistent division fairly randomly, and passed around the large white pamphlets as an afterthought. Her sheet had said useful things like _Brent,_ and _LotR,_ and had even included a curious smudge that Amy had deciphered as _Room 1010._ The booklet was titled, _**How To Bond With Your New Partner,**_ with, _or at least convince them not to kill you until the duty's done,_ as a rather lengthy subtitle. The remaining space on the cover was used up by a picture of two smiling people shaking hands. You had to look closely to notice the tight set of their teeth and the somewhat manic glint in their eyes.

Brent came to a stop, and Amy barely avoided running into him. She shoved the book back in her pocket, pretty sure this was the type of situation it was designed to help her avoid. They hid behind a large tree, and Brent took out his binoculars. He handed them to her. 

"They should be straight ahead," Brent said.

"They? Plural?" Amy asked.

"One for each of us. Look for yourself."

Amy glanced down at the binoculars. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Brent said, all innocence. "'Cause I will."

Amy looked balefully at him. "I'm not blinding myself."

"Whatever. But someone has to look around us."

"You do it." She tried passing them to him, but he backed away.

"Hah. Right," he said. "Besides, you touched them last."

Amy debated chucking them at his head. She might have, but the chances were, considering her athletic ability, that they would have ended up somewhere behind her. Which meant that not only would she still be the one who had "touched them last," she would also have to find them. 

"The book doesn't say anything about not killing your partner," she growled to herself. If Brent heard her, it didn't stop him from grinning. She squinted and raised the binoculars to her face.

All she saw was blackness, so she unclenched her eyes slightly. There were plants, bushes, some sky... and an Elf-maiden sitting under an exceptionally lovely tree. The plants around it were leaning away from it, as though they found it distasteful. "I think I've found her," Amy said. "At least she doesn't glow."

Brent started pulling on the binoculars, but Amy wouldn't give them up. "Ow. Hey! You had your chance. If you wanted to look at her so badly, you shouldn't have - Wait, someone else is coming." 

A second Elf walked up to the tree and started talking to the first. "She's saying something... I'm not sure what... Now the first one is talking. Sore me... Sorry? I think she's apologizing for something...."

"She's been hiding since lunch," Brent explained.

Amy took the binoculars away from her eyes to look at Brent. "How do you know?"

He pointed at something in front of him: the sky, as far as Amy could tell. She noticed his eyes were somewhat unfocussed, and realized he was looking at the words. 

"Oh," she said, glancing at them herself. Brent took the opportunity to snatch the binoculars.

"Talk what they do, okay?" he told her.

Amy, who was rubbing the plastic burn from her hand, did not bother to decipher his order. She was imagining taking the booklet from her pocket and bludgeoning him to death with it.

"Read the quotations," he translated. "I want to know what they're saying."

Amy sneered at the back of his head. She opened and shut her mouth a few times, mimicking, but he never turned around to see her. Amy was secretly glad.

"**Fine**," she said. "Elf One says, 'Oh, there you are.' Elf Two says, 'Yes. By the way, what's that?' Elf One: 'Why, I do believe there are two orcs sitting behind that tree over there.' Elf Two replies, 'Let's go kill them.' Elf One says, 'Works for me -'"

"Funny. Ha, Ha," Brent cut her off. "Really."

* * *

The rest of this chapter can be read at **http://members.bellatlantic.net/~vze3b4pq/PPC_TOS/anyamy/goodbye2.html**. If you like humor and the death of those who deserve it, you might want to go there. If you are easily offended by that sort of stuff... I didn't post it here! There is absolutely no cause for anyone to care. 

Except me. Tell me what you thought, everybody. 


End file.
